The Demise of a Traitor
by Getemono
Summary: She had never wanted to be bad. She simply was. One Shot.


Disclaimer: I do not own Tekken.

A Traitor's Demise

Soft clinks of metal on metal rang throughout the forest. Well, admittedly, it wasn't that loud, it just seemed loud to her, since it was the only noise that could be heard. No birds chirping, no leaves blowing in the wind, just the clangs that emitted when the slender woman tinkered with raw scraps of metal. She was anxious, and her hands needed to be kept busy when she was in a wrong state of mind.

The woman smiled glumly beneath her wooden mask. Her father used to say that she had 'aimless fingers', always quick, in motion and reaching for everything. He never would have guessed that they were meant for stealing.

She picked up a screwdriver and turned a screw into place. Her long fingers had caused grief, greedily taking from others things she knew she would never otherwise get to own. She had always claimed that it was for the good of the clan, that it would benefit her starving family. But really, she was lying. She just loved the thrill of stealing.

Her fingers still itched when she thought of that beautiful blue pendant, loose and vulnerable around that undeserving Native American woman's neck. She remembered the chill down her spine when she found out how important it was, coveted by such dangerous, powerful people. She had to have it. But she slipped up, somehow, and was unable to obtain her prize. She grabbed a fistful of wires, determined to ignore the burning itch on her fingertips. She wasn't able to -she could never control herself- and she dropped the wires to tear at the soft flesh of her hands. She dug her sharp nails deep into the knuckles and dragged them down to her fingertips, feverishly slashing first one hand, then the other. She stopped to dig blood and scraps of skin from under her fingernails, and she almost grimaced down at her mutilated hands. Even after her skin was ripped and bleeding, it continued to itch, but the pain was just enough to distract her. She loosely wrapped her wounds and continued with her task.

It was disgusting, her obsession with stealing. That was what her clan told her when they discovered her true, selfish motives. She had laughed in their faces when they confronted her, pretending she was so proud of herself for fooling them for so long. But the truth was she had lied because she was ashamed; she was addicted to stealing, and she had been trying to lie to herself as much as anyone else. How could she ever admit that to her family, her friends, her lover? She would rather have them all frown down at her as a selfish thief than a weak little girl.

But still…she couldn't forget the looks on their faces, she never would. Her little sisters wailing as they asked her over and over again, '_Why?_', following her even after she pushed them away, called them stupid and told them they were weak. Her youngest sister, only three years old, had grabbed a fistful of her pants and was begging her to stay, to be good again, but Kunimitsu simply pried her fingers off and threw her into the mud again.

She was absolutely disgusting.

Her fingers shook as she reached for the next piece she needed. Her father's glare of absolute disdain flashed across her mind, his harsh features as familiar as her own cursed hands. He had never been completely comfortable with stealing to survive, it went against his honorable upbringing, and her betrayal cut him deep. She used to follow him everywhere, tottering uncertainly behind him at first, then learning everything he had to teach her with enough precision and skill to make her the strongest woman (and second strongest fighter) in the Manji Clan. He rarely complimented her, but his pride was obvious. She was his little girl. Was.

She had to take a breath to steady herself when she remembered her boyfriend's face. He hadn't shattered or put on a strong façade. He just stood there, waiting for her at the edge of the Clan's lands. She had foolishly hoped that he was going to run away with her, or at least say something meaningful that she could hold onto during the lonely years to come. Instead, he just stood there, face cold but eyes hurt as he presented her with the daggers she'd given him for their two-year anniversary. They were his most prized possessions. He usually fought with his sword, but the daggers could always be seen strapped to his thighs, ready to be drawn. She had tried to walk past him, hoping that he would be forced to keep them if she ignored him. But he cut her off and pushed them, still sheathed, against her stomach before letting them go and turning back towards his home. Refusing to cry, she had placed them carefully at her hips before walking away.

Between the crestfallen look on her boyfriend's face and disgust in her father's eyes, she didn't know which was worse.

And now he was coming for her. She knew from the day she turned away from the Manji Clan that he would. She had duplicated her old Clan mask, and hid behind it as she continued to steal. They wouldn't allow her to keep disgracing the clan's name. The wind shifted, and her heartbeat sped up. She looked up and watched as he appeared from the trees, slowly walking to where she sat.

Seeing him…it was ridiculous, it was like being back at home, happy and loved again. She nearly smiled at the thought of running up to him and holding on, refusing to let go. But there was only one reason he was here today, and it wasn't to reminisce.

He was the clan leader, it was his duty to eliminate her, no matter how important she might have been to him at one point in his life. And she knew that he was bound to tradition, and he would do it or die trying. She fitted a last screw into place and picked up her daggers, smiling down at the completed air conditioning unit before her. She had no use for it, but it had been fun to take apart and put together again.

"Finally found me, huh?" she asked breezily, standing up and walking around her project. "You took longer than I thought you would." she taunted. She was always amazed at how easy it was to be so easygoing and cruel. She hated it.

"I had hoped you would change your ways." he replied in that careful, sad voice of his. "It was foolish of me."

"Old habits die hard, I guess." she twirled her daggers in her hands, which were throbbing with the need to move as well as the pain from her new cuts.

"Satoshi wanted to be the one to come for you." he said, and she sensed he was stalling. She could humor him.

"Why didn't you let him?" she asked, an ugly false laughter in her voice.

"He would have lied for you." That one hurt. She shook it off and tightened her grip on her daggers. "Are you sure this is the way you want it to end?" he asked her.

Pure agony settled deep inside her, flowing through her veins and making her heart heavy with pain. She thought of how it could be, if she truthfully answered 'no', ran over to hug him and apologized and begged for forgiveness. But sorry meant you were willing to change, that you would at least try, and she knew that she wouldn't. Of course she didn't want it to end like this, only a monster would wish for such a thing. But she knew, by the way he looked at her, that he was staring at a particularly ugly and horrible monster.

"Let's make this quick." she said, crouching low. He nodded back at her and prepared to attack.

She lunged just a second before he did. She felt wild and completely out of control as the wind whipped through her long twin ponytails. Her hands were finally at ease, not throbbing or itching as she charged. His image multiplied before her and within a blink of an eye there were hundreds of him charging at her, their demonic red swords ready to slice her through. She kept her steely gaze locked on his true self and quickly brought her daggers down.

Blades ripping through flesh screamed in her mind.

She ran past him and skidded to a stop, and she could hear him doing the same behind her. She was scared for a few seconds as her heartbeat thundered, but it wasn't long before she figured out the outcome. She wished a lot of things in those last few seconds. She wished that she'd had some level of self-control, that she had lived by the rules and made her clan proud. She wished that she could have admitted she was wrong. She wished she wasn't dying. But most of all, she wished she could reach out with her mangled, dirty hand and hold onto his strong, pure hand, just once so she wouldn't have to be alone.

Blood sprouted from her chest, and Yoshimitsu thought he heard her laugh before crumpling face-first into the ground. Wincing, he pulled her daggers out of his sides and gingerly crouched down to clean them properly against the spring grass. Carefully, he rolled her onto her back and wrapped her hands around her weapons. He slowly loosed her fine hair from her ties and arranged it respectfully around her fallen figure. He paused, his hand hovering above her face before shaking his head and staggering to his feet. He stared at her, not knowing just how he was supposed to feel about her lifeless form. He decided to leave before the realization could sink in.

"It's too bad you were born with aimless fingers." he commented softly so only she would hear. He walked away, unable to remove the mask and reveal the sleeping face of the girl who had once meant the world to him.

**A/N: I would just like to thank my first ever Beta Reader, SeungSeiRan, for agreeing to look this over and strengthen it with her insight. She's a magnificent author, and it was a privilege to get her help.**


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